


Kneelers and Free Folk

by elenatria



Series: Briemund [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Action, Adventure, Angst, Coming of Age, Cultural Differences, F/M, Heartbreak, NOT an established relationship, Romance, Self-Doubt, Slow Build, Smut, self-knowledge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-11-29 16:02:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11444274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenatria/pseuds/elenatria
Summary: He had never met a woman quite like her.Then again she had never met a man like him either.





	1. The arrow

**Author's Note:**

> Pop quiz, hot shot: your side fic waits for you to post the action-packed chapter 15 but season 7 is closing in, threatening to put a lid on everything. What do you do?  
> You say "screw it" and post the first chapter of your main fic.  
> While working on a comic strip based on s07e01 leaks and speculation that has to be posted *before* the episode airs.  
> No pressure.
> 
> [My tumblr](http://elenatria.tumblr.com/)   
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne needs a good night's sleep and gets a surprise instead.

“I can’t tell what’s worse, their food or their beds...”

Brienne couldn’t stop tossing and turning. She knew that a feather bed was a luxury she couldn’t have at Castle Black. Normally a mattress, even if filled with straw like this one, would be better than the frozen ground she had been sleeping on for the past few months, but her body had grown used to that kind of hardness and found it impossible to adjust. She couldn’t get comfortable no matter how much she turned. Podrick was luckier than her; he had laid furs over woolen blankets on the floor and was already fast asleep. Upon hearing his relaxed snoring Brienne wondered if it would be too humiliating to ask him to change places next time.

But it wasn’t just the mattress that didn’t let her sleep; she couldn’t stop thinking about the letter that was sent by Lady Sansa’s husband, Ramsay Bolton, a letter filled with threats, provocations and ultimatums. That sadist had Rickon, Sansa’s youngest brother. Soon she and her half brother Jon Snow, the Lord Commander of Castle Black, would have to decide on their course of action.

Brienne managed to fall into a dreamless sleep a little before dawn. They hadn’t come to Castle Black to rest, her body knew that very well and wouldn’t let her relax.

She was woken by the bustle coming from the courtyard as the pale sun rose. The wildlings and the men of the Night’s Watch were already at their posts; some were cutting wood for the hearths, others were sharpening their blades on whetstones and the youngest among them, the stewards and the wildling boys and girls were milking the goats. Brienne got up, threw one last look of contempt at Podrick who was still asleep, and dressed swiftly. She didn’t want to wake him up, she was tired of rebuking him; she would simply go down to the kitchen and prepare her breakfast herself. She never needed a squire anyway, and maybe this was the time to convince the lad to join the Night’s Watch and stop worrying about him.

She grabbed the door knob and tried to push but the door was stuck. At such low temperatures it is normal for hinges to be warped, she thought. She gave another big push with her shoulder; the hinges squeaked but the door didn’t open. Light came through the narrow opening but something was outside the room blocking the exit.

“Seven hells…!” she whispered and searched the whole length of the opening trying to find where exactly the unseen obstacle was.

It was probably something big and heavy leaning against the lower part of the door; perhaps a drunken brother of the Night’s Watch had fallen asleep in the hallway.

“Idiots…” Brienne thought and violently threw her shoulder against the wood.

She turned to Podrick who had woken up by the noise and was rubbing his sleepy eyes.

“Pod, come and help me,” she commanded. “It is stuck. One, two, three…”

They both fell on the door with all their might until it half opened and the pale winter light filled the dark room. Brienne walked out to see what in the gods’ names was blocking the door all this time. She stood speechless.

A huge stag was lying dead at her feet.

“By the old gods and the new, what _imbeciles!_ …” she said through her teeth. “The Night’s Watch are not known for their food but neither for their cleverness it seems, they brought the stag up here. What kind of jest is this?”

Pod bent over the dead animal and pointed at the arrow that was buried in its back.

“It wasn’t brought here by the Night’s Watch, m’lady. I think this is a wildling arrow.”

“A wildling arrow? How do you know?”

“Do you see the fletching? We don’t make it like that, it seems to be more… crude. And the shaft is white, it’s made of weirwood. Only wildlings would make arrows like that.”

Brienne bent over the carcass furrowing her brows and pulled off the arrow.  She took a good look at it turning it as the blood dripped on the wooden planks.

“Someone has to answer for this,” she exclaimed angrily and rushed down the stairs.

She walked out, stood in the middle of the busy courtyard and looked around her. Some men of the Night’s Watch and a few wildlings stopped what they were doing to give the tall blonde woman a quizzical look. She was still clutching the arrow, and she finally knew who its owner was.

A red-bearded wildling who was flaying a dead sheep that was hanging from a hook had turned towards her, staring at her. A hint of a smile twisted his lips and his emerald eyes were shining with joy. Brienne approached him with a determined look on her face.

“Did you leave the stag outside my door?”

The wildling looked her up and down before answering; she didn’t seem very happy. Brienne lifted her chin in a haughty manner.

“Do you speak the Common Tongue?” she said coldly. “Do you use a tongue where you come from or do you still communicate with grunts and growls?” she said sharply and took one more step hovering over him.

The bulky wildling stood his ground as if he hadn’t heard her insult. Brienne was taller than him like most of the men she had ever confronted, only this man didn’t seem to fear her, neither did he take a step back like most of them had. He chose his words carefully before answering, this southron giant woman wouldn’t take a joke no doubt. That was just one of many things that made her stand out from other women he had met.

Then again she hadn’t met men like him either.

There was no one like him.

“We do have a tongue and use it when the occasion calls for it,” he answered staring into her eyes. His voice was deep and hoarse. 

The hairy beast that smelled like lambskin and dirt could actually form a proper sentence, who would have thought. Up until that moment she hadn’t thought that savage was capable of human speech, she had only seen the grotesque grimaces he made in his failed attempts to smile at her, the foreign “beauty”, and she had heard his grunts and heavy breathing when he was sitting close to her.

But now the creature was actually talking to her, daring to make innuendos even.

“Why would you do a thing like that, for Seven's sake?” she said. “The stag’s place is in the kitchen.”

“But I didn’t kill it for the others, I killed it for you to eat. And I left it outside your door so that you would know it was me who hunted it down.”

Brienne blushed. As if it wasn’t enough that this complete stranger’s eyes were eating her the previous day during lunch, now he was bringing her gifts. A gift so big that everyone in Castle Black had definitely noticed it by now.

She tried to conceal her awkwardness.

“It’s… it’s too big for me. I won’t be able to eat it all.”

The savage smirked as if he had just received the biggest compliment of them all.

“It sure _is_ …” he nodded suggestively. “But I bet you’ll manage it.”

His tone was warm and reassuring but Brienne got a sinking feeling in her stomach. She didn’t know exactly what he meant but she was certain it wasn’t the stag. Why did she feel like he was threatening her somehow? 

“Its place is in the kitchen,” she continued and lowered her irritated gaze.

That wildling just couldn’t take his eyes off her. Brienne nodded nervously, gave him his arrow back and made for the kitchen hastily.


	2. The armour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories are not always helpful.

The days that followed brought Brienne even more presents. Every now and then she’d find a lambskin outside her door, or a flask filled with sour goat’s milk or a bow with a quiver full of arrows. It all made her quite uncomfortable but she never dared talk about it with her squire or Lady Sansa. That wildling didn’t talk to her again but he never stopped sending her gifts even if she didn’t accept them. Podrick was tired of taking all the presents back to the wildling camp that was situated near the Wall. The redheaded leader would always give him a disappointed look as he took back each present without a word. Pod came to pity the ferocious warrior who acted like a lovesick youth every time Lady Brienne turned him down.

Until one day the presents stopped coming. Brienne had grown used to opening her door every morning and finding a new surprise, but now there was nothing waiting for her. Not that day or the next, or the day after that.

“Maybe he got tired of trying,” she thought and gave a satisfied smile looking at the things that were considered to be _real_ gifts where she came from, the armour and the sword that were stacked in a corner; the armour and the sword that Jaime Lannister gave her before she left King’s Landing with Podrick. And her contentment turned into melancholy.

If she was asked a few years ago what she wanted in life she would say to serve king Renly Baratheon, the only man who had ever treated her with the respect she deserved. When Renly was assassinated Brienne lost the ground under her feet. That night her world came crashing down; she lost everything she loved, everything she lived for. She always thought her place was in the shadow of great men, in a shadow so thick that no one could see past her armour, so impenetrable that no man would notice her unbearable ugliness.

Jaime Lannister had turned everything upside down; with him she felt she could let go. With him she didn’t have to hide her naked body, or her soul. Underneath all the disgusting rumours and his dark past there was a lonely vulnerable man, a man who had come to respect her and admire her for what she was. The sarcasm and the spiteful jokes had stopped; the queen’s brother had gained a valuable friend and had also reclaimed a part of him he thought he had lost forever: respect for himself and for others.

Brienne touched the armour lightly as sorrow overwhelmed her. No man had ever given her such a great gift. Even the sword that he gave her, Oathkeeper, was made of Valyrian steel, a metal so rare, so hard to find that no one would ever dare sell it, let alone give it to her as a present.

The Kingslayer’s beautiful face filled her thoughts like sunlight, still her joy didn’t last too long and she let her hand fall. No matter how much she loved Jaime she knew that his sword belonged to the Kingsguard and his soul to his queen sister. Brienne realized that the rumours that they were lovers were true when queen Cersei revealed that she knew about Brienne’s feelings, a hint of an evil smile resting upon her luscious lips. Brienne wished she could disappear in a puff of smoke like those acrobats and jugglers who had arrived that day at king Joffrey’s wedding in hopes of becoming rich thanks to the king’s good graces. She knew too well that men were capable of unimaginable cruelty but she could never imagine how much venom could be found in a woman too. Little did she know that malice had no gender.

Jaime was watching them from a distance looking just as worried, just as helpless.

Nothing in this world could bring her and the handsome Kingslayer together, she was well aware of that.


	3. The note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dead body is never good news.

Jon Snow, the former Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, was standing in the middle of the courtyard staring at the bloody corpse of a girl that his brothers had just brought before him and his flame-haired wildling companion. One might say that after Jon’s death and his enigmatic resurrection his watch had ended, he had paid his dues, he was free. He should have been reborn into a peaceful, serene world, into a cloudless afterlife. But there he was, death having cut off a piece of his soul but not the tormenting sense of duty, not the heavy shadow of responsibility.  
Dolorous Edd stood by his side. “Ingar found her when he went to pick up wood. They raped her then tied her to a horse and dragged her while she was still breathing.”  
“Who did this?” asked Jon frowning.  
“They must be Bolton men. Or outlaws hiding in the woods and raiding nearby villages.”  
Lady Sansa had joined them, her eyes fixed on the body. She knew this would be her fate once she gave birth to the Bolton heir. After all the physical and mental ordeal Ramsay had put her through since they got married, all he wanted from her was a son. She knew that the only part her cruel husband needed was her womb; after the birth he would give the baby to a wet nurse and his wife to the dogs. Sansa shuddered at the thought.  
Her revulsion didn’t go unnoticed by her brother. Jon gave her a concerned look before turning back to the girl’s body. She was redheaded and pale and almost the same age as his half sister. Her torturers had stuck an arrow down her throat to hold in place a bloody piece of paper with a wolf drawn on it.  
Jon pulled the paper out.  
“A warning from Bolton?” he turned to Ser Davos who had come closer to observe the dead body.  
“Not necessarily, not if they were deserters from his army,” the aged knight said. “Maybe it was just a brutal game with their victim. They know Lady Sansa escaped their leader. A highborn woman who defies the bonds of marriage can easily become the fantasy and the target of sadists like them, and unfortunately Lady Sansa has a reputation now.”  
Brienne, who was standing by Lady Sansa’s side, felt like she had never seen anything more stomach-turning in her life. Once again the brutality and savagery of men was showing its ugly face. That unfortunate girl hadn’t been as lucky as she had, she had neither armour nor sword to defend herself, and no one was there when those human beasts had her at their mercy.  
“Whoever did this, the Night’s Watch cannot let them terrorize and pillage,” Dolorous Edd said. “We have to find them.”  
The brothers of the Night’s Watch looked at Jon Snow.  
“I’ll go,” the wildling leader said without hesitation. “I’ll bring my men with me. These stray dogs will soon find out what’s in store for them if they ever dare come near our camp.”  
Brienne gave him a startled look. So the ginger creature with the crude gifts was actually their leader? Did they _have_ a leader, one they would obey and answer to apart from Jon Snow? Were they even able to follow orders? She had stayed at Castle Black for more than a week now but although she had seen him eating next to Jon it never occurred to her to ask who he was, or what his name was. She realized she should have figured that out by now, he had the most imposing posture, the most proud gaze of them all.  
Jon looked worried. “You should be careful, Tormund. If you’re outnumbered don’t confront them unless you have to. Maybe it’s just a distraction from Ramsay, a trick. Isn’t that how he defeated Stannis? Maybe he’s not willing to wait for me to gather an army and he’s just playing with us, dispersing us. We don’t know who they are.”  
Tormund patted Jon on the shoulder with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry too much. I'll-”  
“I’ll join you,” Brienne blurted out before Tormund could finish his sentence. Jon Snow, Sansa and Ser Davos turned. Having so many people look at her at once made her almost regret her sudden decision but somehow she couldn’t stay neutral. She tightened the grip around her sword’s hilt. “I have sworn to protect Lady Sansa and I cannot let anyone threaten her even if those threats are just a game,” she said decisively as she faced Tormund, the leader of this expedition.  
The wildling gave her an unfathomable look but said nothing. He always seemed so ready to make witty remarks but after she confronted him about the stag he stopped addressing her. Maybe because he learned to respect her, that warrior woman from the south who was tall as a tree and impregnable as a castle.  
Or maybe because whenever she laid her eyes on him he forgot how to breathe.


	4. The mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody wants to spend time alone with a creeper. Right? RIGHT???

The ten horsemen rode through the peaceful woods with Tormund and his wildling companions leading the way. Brienne and Podrick were close behind surrounded by the men of the Night’s Watch. Any suspicious sound would make them stop and listen before continuing their course. No bird would fly and no leaf would fall without Brienne noticing it, until she gradually stopped paying attention to her environment and focused on a single spot right in front of her. Maybe she was too tired and trying to stay awake, maybe it was that wild sea of red hair that she couldn’t ignore anymore. _How could anything be so red and vibrant,_ she thought. A red that was warmer than the sunset, a red scarier than blood.

Later on, when she was curling up on the firm cold ground trying to keep her teeth from chattering, she couldn’t put her finger on the exact moment when she started meticulously observing the wildling who had his back turned towards her for the biggest part of their trip. She simply noticed his presence at some point, and soon he was the only thing she was focusing on. He was tall and heavily built; maybe not as tall as her but he certainly stood out from the rest of the group. His hair was a tangled beastly mane and his whole body was covered with leather and fur that looked like second skin to him. An animal for certain. Brienne blinked as a fleeting image flashed through her mind; she pictured him surrounded by children wrapped in furs like a bunch of bear cubs trying to climb on his back. What a weird momentary thought cut off from the here and now, irrational in its randomness. She wondered what his body looked like under those furs. She wondered if his shoulders were covered in freckles just like his rose-coloured face, and if his strong forearms were full of soft fair hair, just like his chest, just like his belly. Just like…

Her mind slid down past his navel, reaching even lower than that tantalizing trail of ginger hair.

Her fingers. Down there.

So soft, so warm, so-

Oh.

Oh _no_. Seven hells.

She shut her eyes.

_What do you think you’re doing?_

With a shake of her head she chased the tempting image away feeling embarrassed as if she had been caught walking naked.

 

When the night began to fall Tormund turned his horse cutting himself off from the group and stayed behind. Brienne’s heart sank if only for a split second, however she kept looking straight ahead, never giving in to the temptations of her peripheral vision, not even when the ginger creature rode next to her.

“Soon it will be dark, we need to set up camp,” Tormund told her.

“Good. Me and Pod will take the first watch.”

“And I will replace you,” he answered and rode off catching up with the rest of the wildlings.

Brienne felt a kind of abandonment that she had never experienced before. A feeling of selfish loneliness, as if she was waiting for something to happen, something to be said between them, as if their talk was interrupted for no reason. She assumed Tormund’s interest in her had withered away after his gifts had been turned down. That or the decisive warrior had taken the place of the awkward lover and nothing could distract him from his mission now.

 

Podrick was suppressing one yawn after the other as he tried to warm up his frozen fingers over the remains of the fire. Brienne on the other hand was alert as ever, watching him with disdain with her back against a tree. She could hardly refrain from lashing out at him as she waited for her squire to drowse and land in the hot embers face down.

“Go to sleep, Pod,” she said impatiently.

“But, m’lady…”

“Go to sleep. I can do this alone. Besides the watch is ending soon.”

Pod didn’t dare utter any objection. He looked at her like a beaten dog and silently lied on the ground wrapping his cloak around him.

Brienne leaned her head back against the tree and half closed her eyes. She was used to resting briefly without fully closing her eyes when she didn’t have the luxury to sleep properly. She took a look around observing the sleeping men in her company. They had buried the fire so as not to be spotted by anyone lurking the woods in the night, however she could still recognize each and every one of those sleeping bodies, their hair, their built, the way they breathed in their sleep, just like any good soldier would do. 

And then she realized she wasn’t the only one awake.

He was leaning on his elbow watching her through the darkness with undying interest. From time to time a silent sigh would escape his lips, ever so subtle, as if he was consciously trying not to wake the others. Or maybe he just didn’t want to anger with his fascination the foreign woman watching over them. He had learned his lesson, the giant blonde from the south detested any loud displays of admiration and, by the bloody gods of the forest, it was hard for him not to admire her. Never in his life had he seen such a fearsome female on either side of the Wall. Ever since he met her not a single night had passed without her tall imposing figure invading his thoughts. Those nights he had wondered how much softness and humid warmth was hiding underneath that fortress of cold steel. He had wondered how hard it would be for him to remove her armour, to creep like a thief under that chainmail of hers. He would have to ask the boy how to untie those straps, how to remove the pauldrons and the chestplate until there was nothing left of her but her rosy freckled nakedness ready to be feasted upon. He had wondered if his patient touch would make her battle hardened body quiver with desire; if she would ever let him explore her delectable secret caves with his fingers, tease them until they were wet enough for him to ease himself in. He wanted to hear his name come out of her half-opened lips in a lustful raspy whisper; oh the things he would do to those lips, the bliss he would find in that mouth.

How many times had he dreamt of spending the night with her, and waking up to see her lying next to him, returning his gaze.

But there he was, dreaming with his eyes open in the middle of the night, with her looking at him when everyone else was sleeping. They were practically alone. What more could he ask for?

Brienne wondered how long he had been watching her lying there in the dark.

“What are you looking at?” she snapped.

Spitting out that phrase was almost like a reflex to her, it’s what she thought every time she got any unwanted attention or mockery because of her enormous built, but she never had to actually say it out loud. Maybe because she found it more effective to simply grab the hilt of her huge sword; no one would dare speak then, let alone laugh. No one was ever stupid enough to provoke her.

Tormund shrugged and shook his head without saying a word. His face was dimly lit by the pale moonlight but Brienne could still discern his persistent stare in the dark. She let out a discontented sigh.

“If the time has come for you to replace me you’d better get up,” she said frostily.

Tormund obeyed and sat beside her resting his forearms on his knees.

“The boy is asleep, eh?” he said nodding towards Podrick.

“So it seems.”

“I’ll never understand why kneelers need so many slaves to help them.”

“He’s not my slave,” Brienne said irritated. “He’s my squire…”

She closed her eyes regretting every word; she had just remembered how useless a squire was to her. And Jaime Lannister’s last “gift” was not only a burden but also a reason for her to defend her decisions to a wildling. She pursed her lips.

“And I don’t need a squire. I took him with me from King’s Landing because his life was in danger.”

“That pup _must_ be good for something. I assume that armour of yours doesn’t come out by itself,” Tormund said knowingly and pointed at that part of her chestplate where its curves followed the shape of her bosom.

Brienne turned to him.

“Are you implying I can’t take off my own armour?” she said blinking with anger.

Tormund sat up and leaned towards her. His eyes were glowing green like emerald flames just like when he was sitting opposite her at the table on her first day at Castle Black, watching her from head to toe as if she was the most delicious, the most desirable creature in the world.

“I’m just saying…” he continued. “It’s not a bad thing to have someone _else_ remove your armour every now and then.”

Brienne’s face took an unhealthy whitish hue and looked the other way like she did every time he undressed her with his eyes.

“Good-goodnight,” she murmured hastily.

She got up and found a safe place to sleep as far from that crazy wildling as possible. 


End file.
